


The Wrong Master

by ElfFromDenerim



Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: F/M, Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 09:11:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14951796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElfFromDenerim/pseuds/ElfFromDenerim
Summary: As the animancy hearing descends into chaos, Aloth begins to feel he has served the wrong master, and Nya begins to worry she has trusted the wrong friend. (Aloth's POV, then the Watcher's.)





	The Wrong Master

**Author's Note:**

> A short drabble to help me get back into the swing of writing after a two-year hiatus.

Nya yawned as they approached the balcony at the Animancy Hearing, at the Ducal Palace. She had big circles under her eyes, and swayed as she walked, which was broken only by her slumping against the wooden balcony. Her companions lowed their gaze as their wild orlan leader, though she was no more than half their collective heights (less in Kana’s case), as she clutched the wooden rail from exhaustion. Her wild boar animal companion, Cadpig, brushed his snout against her hip and grunted worriedly. She smiled gently and caressed his hoary face despite herself.

Her sleep had been more troubled of late, and long nights at the Salty Mast were spent more muttering and thrashing around in her sleep than getting true rest. Still, most of them found her state more pitiable than truly alarming. 

All except one.

“Are you all right?” Aloth asked.

She nodded sleepily, then yawned again. It was a cat’s yawn that showed off her cute little fangs and pointed pink tongue.

“I’m all right,” she said briskly, yet tiredly. 

She absently reached into a pouch tied to her belt and pulled out some cocoa beans imported from Rauatai (a gift from Kana Rua), and munched at them sleepily. Then she made a face when she realized they weren’t the snack she thought they were, and switched them out for some coffee beans from the Vailian Republics (a gift from Pallegina).

“Ah, nothing like a good coffee to revive one’s energy!” Kana said enthusiastically, earning some annoyed or skeptical glances from the others.

“Still, I’d boil that in water if I were you,” Sagani said, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

“No time,” Nya murmured sleepily, munching with her eyes closed. “They’ll be finishing up soon.”

Aloth grimaced. He knew how intensely bitter cocoa and coffee beans were, and wondered how in Eora she could stand it in the raw. But then, she tended to like ingredients better than properly prepared meals anyway. While the others feasted on cooked meat at the camp fire, Nya often seemed to prefer sinking her fangs into fresh kills before Edér could even start carving it up. She also tended to pop random bits of foliage into her mouth as she explored Dyrwood’s… charming natural scenery.

Of course, Sagani and Hiravias far preferred eating meat in the raw as well, so it was not as if she lacked company. Except they were the ones making the most horrified and disgusted faces at her, so who could tell with these wilder kith?

Downstairs, the chatter began to die down as all sides began to rest their cases, and it was drawing time for the Duc to lead into his final judgment. Whether from the coffee beans or the seriousness of the occasion, Nya began to perk up. Her unfocused eyes began to brighten in attention, and after putting her coffee beans away she rubbed her face with her open palms and then slapped it as though to slap herself awake.

She yawned once more, but this time to invigorate herself. She stood tall and proud despite her short stature. She cracked her neck and rolled her shoulders.

“Show time.”

-

Aloth had never been prouder of Nya than he was at that moment. While in the past she could often be flippant and irreverent, or else given to fits of passion and hot blood, today she kept her clever tongue and hot temper in check. Except for one quip against a Lady of Doemenel about keeping the brothel doors shut to keep her husband out (which the lady herself had started at Nya, as a thinly veiled attack against her for being a well-regarded guest in The Salty Mast), she remained rational and honest.

She appealed to the room’s sense of logic and reason. She presented her evidence in a straightforward manner, drawing neither conjecture nor sentimental appeals to emotion. She commanded the attention of the entire room, and effortlessly rebutted the duc’s attempts to dismiss her evidence. Whenever the duc drew her credibility into question, she appealed to the assembly’s knowledge of her reputation for honesty, and the logic of the evidence her findings had pointed to therein.

But still, despite her rationality, Aloth could see her becoming increasingly restless as the debates wore on. It was subtle enough that even their companions who stood beside her did not seem to notice, or at least not seem overly alarmed, so it was very much unlikely that the assembly below the balcony could have picked up on it. But the dilating of her cat’s pupils, the twitch of her agitated ears, and the… frankly, passionate energy that seemed to radiate from her body seemed to tell another story.

Aloth could always count on her to put her flippancy aside when it mattered, and it seemed to pay off.

Still, he did not agree with her view on animancy. Neither did Pallegina. She seemed to try to reach a middle-of-the-road compromise that would truly benefit no one. 

The duc prepared to give his final verdict.

-

They noticed the silver-haired intruder too late. The twitch of Nya’s long ears and jerk of her head alerted Aloth more than the stranger, whom he would have missed outright had he not been cogniescent of her reactions.

Aloth’s blood froze to ice when he saw who was at the door.

Nya, ever more hot-blooded, rushed to the edge of the balcony closest to the door and clutched the thick wooden bars; too short to see over them and too stout to slip through them. 

Thaos raised his arms and convulsed forward, as if throwing an imaginary wave of magical energy. Nya looked from him to the animancer on the other side of the room, and her entire face widened in horror.

Aloth could not see what she saw, but he did notice the animancer’s expression change at once from open, attentive, and imploring to cold, hard, and resolute. His body language changed from an honest scholar begging an authority figure to see reason and heed his entreaties, to a cruel, sinister, hard-faced man about to do a wicked deed.

Just as the duc was about to announce his verdict on animancy, the animancer too raised his hands.

Nya reached her hand helplessly through the wooden balcony bars.

“Don’t--!” she called.

The animancer suddenly lurched forward and murdered the duc where he stood; engulfed in ghastly purple flames that immolated him mind, body, and soul where he stood.

“NO!” she shrieked, which was quickly drowned out by the uproar of screams and yells of consternation from the entire room. 

No sooner had the duc ignited than the room broke into an uproar. Everyone started shouting and rising from their seats. The Dozens broke from their place and began fighting the guards. No sooner was the immolation complete did the animancer’s cold, hard expression disappear as quickly as it appeared, and he was left looking drained, confused, and horrified. The Dozens broke from the guards and descended on him with concealed weapons.

“No, wait! I didn’t…” he could only protest as they cut him down, murdering him where he stood. In a few stabs and kicks, he was dead. Despite his detestable choice in career, it was impossible to not to feel sorry for him. Same with the guards as they were cut down by the angry mob, nor the Crucible Knights as they were attacked and killed by the angry mob now literally tearing the room apart; throwing up their chairs, knocking over podiums, tearing tapestries off the wall, and worse. Aloth feared they would soon tear the palace down brick by brick--if not burn it down.

“We have to go, now!” Edér exclaimed.

The whole room was consumed in open fighting and killing. As everyone rushed out the door, Aloth looked back just in time to see the silver-haired man nod in satisfaction, and turn away. Aloth’s stomach lurched. His blood turned to ice.

What had he done?

\----

Nya had to get out.

The city was burning. The Dozens were rioting in the streets, cutting down guards and any perceived enemies in their paths. Animancers were pulled out of their homes to get stoned to death. An angry mob howled and cursed outside the santitarium square as they threw torches at the building.

She had to get out.

None of the angry mobsters attacked them as they fled the city (probably because she had represented the Dozens), but still terror dogged their every step. But this was different, somehow.

This was too much, too much—

She felt the same terrible malaise that afflicted her every time she was near Thaos – at the ruins the night she became a Watcher, at the Sanitarium – now this. Part of her wanted to puke and run and scream and pass out all at once.

Ever since she collapsed before Thaos in the duc’s palace, her fur had become slick with sweat, her breathing labored, and her gait uneven. She swayed as she ran, as though so tired she threatened to lose balance, run off course, or collapse outright. She had wild animal’s eyes that looked frantically to and fro, like a hare expecting a hawk to swoop down and grab her any minute.

Like a hare to its home away from the hawk, she needed to go to her den.

Her den… her home… Where was it? The Salty Mast was burning. It was the haven of those Dozens, trying to burn the city. Where--?

Caed Nua.

She had to get back to Caed Nua. 

She had not visited once since she had won it by defeating Maerwald over a month ago. Why would she? The bust handled things well enough, and she could mentally give reconstruction orders from anywhere in the Dyrwood. It was too far a walk, and she had a schedule to keep. 

Time was running out. Her visions were getting worse. Her sleep was getting more fitful. She thought she could trust the Dozens and they burned the city. The city was burning. Thaos—

Thaos stripped the last of her. 

That vision. That woman. Those emotions. So real. So vivid. Like an intrusive early childhood memory that felt more "real" than an entire lifetime of memories between then and now. It awakened strong emotions, deep emotions; so real and wretched that she could not handle it.  
She had to go—

Nothing but animal panic and exhaustion filled her. She missed home. She wanted to go back to the Ixamitl Plains. She wanted to hide in the tall grass between the distant misty hills and the nearby farmlands like she did when she was a kit; when the farmers chased her off her land. She needed a safe place. A safe place to hide and relax and recoup as she figured out what to do next. The Brighthollow. The towers. What next--?

And all at once she saw bridge! Darkness! Away from the light!

She stumbled across the bridge with all the exhausted torpor of an animal released from a trap, trying to get its bearings as it darted quick as it could away from its trapper and into the safty of the grass, the bushes, the trees. The darkness! Darkness and silence could cover her from the roar of the fire and the mob and—

But as they crossed the bridge, she was startled out of her animal panic just enough to hear Aloth draw up beside her. Her cat’s ears and eyes reflexively twitched toward him even as her mind remained elsewhere.

“Please, stop,” Aloth said urgently. “I need to tell you something.”

She whirled around, and she could see reflected in his eyes and face her own wild animal fear. 

Only then did her distracted mind register what her ears and eyes had seen of Aloth: the fires of Defiance Bay cast a shivering, flickering light across one half of his face. The other was in darkness.

He sounded as afraid as she felt. 

His pulled a semblance of her old self out enough for her to grin crookedly and quip, almost reflexively, “Don’t tell me you’ve got another personality tucked away in there?”

He smiled weakly. “Would that it were.”

She felt a sinking. Oh no. Not Aloth.

Aloth continued, “I have not been entirely honest about my motives for traveling with you up until this point.” He spoke calmly enough, but beneath that calm she could see and hear deep fear and regret. “When I finished my training in Aedyr, I was introduced to an organization. All I knew was that they were opposed to the unchecked spread of animancy and that they would guarantee me postings far away from the Cythwood, my father, and his erl. At that time, it was enough."

When she did not respond, he continued,

“In the early years, I heard of them as many things. Hooded men. Prudent teachers. The Leaden Key.”  
On hearing those words, it felt like a large, cold metal key dropped in the pit of her stomach.

It felt like a stone fist squeezed her heart in her chest. It felt like losing a friend.

“Their rules were strict, but their guidance was clear,” Aloth continued as calmly as he could. “I sincerely believed they wanted to keep kith from the folly of their own foolish ambitions.”

He looked down.

“I came to the Dyrwood a little over a year ago. My orders were to gather information on animancy in the region.”

She felt like vomiting all over again. Could it get any worse?

Aloth continued, “A senior contact met with me every few months to receive my reports and issue new leads. She sent me to Gilded Vale to keep an eye on the events surrounding the local lord, but I lost track of her shortly after that. I don’t know if she was reassigned, killed, or… sacrificed, the way you saw. By the time you met me, I’d been on my own for a couple of months.”

Aloth knew a number of spells that hurt people with a single touch. Winter’s Grasp. Fetid Caress. Corrosive Siphon. She’d seen him reach out to touch people in battle, and his touch was poison to them. They froze, drained, burst out with boiling pustules at his slightest touch, when he dared emerge from the shadows to approach them; reach out to them. As he was reaching out to her now.

His words felt like the brush of death he gave his enemies. She felt cold, sick, and drained all at once.

Lying? Betrayal? No wonder his story about being at Gilded Veil didn’t add up. No wonder he seemed unusually interested in her story about the hooded figures and machine in Cilant Lîs. No wonder he’s invited himself to join her party so eagerly when before and since he had been so shy--

When he'd invited himself to join her party.

The whole thing hit her like a cold slap to the face with an icy rag. 

So that’s why he wanted to travel with her? Not because he liked her—not because she’s saved him, not because he considered her a friend, but… but…

She felt almost proud of herself for keeping down the panic (like keeping down a spoiled lunch) when she asked, “What did you want from me?”

This was it. This was the moment when he said, “I was tasked to spy on you all along. Now, I can’t let you leave the city. I must kill you/turn you into the Leaden Key to please my dark masters.” And then he would raise his scepter and she would be forced to fight him and kill him.

Oh please—not that!

Instead, he said in an imploring voice—in a voice that entreated her to understand and believe him: “I needed some kind of direction. After that scrape with the locals, I was ready to get out of town. But then you mentioned that machine and the hooded figures, and I felt sure you would be able to put me back on the Leaden Key’s trail.”

The light of the burning city danced in the air as she dared to hope.

“And I was correct, in a way,” Aloth continued, “but what we found wasn’t what I’d expected.”

He took a deep, steadying breath. His voice was pained with torture, conflict, regret. “I knew the Leaden Key was trying to stop animancy, but I didn’t realize how far they’d gone. Murder, sabotage, abandoning entire districts to shambling horrors… and now the whole city is up in flames."

He continued more softly, “I’m still not sure about animancy... but I know I’ve been following the wrong master. Please, accept my apology… and my service. Let me fight with you to stop Thaos.”

She could have collapsed with relief. She wanted to cry and laugh all at once. Was that all?? 

Her toothy grin threatened to crack her whole face in half.

Her struggle to find her balance and catch her breath was what made her realize she really had collapsed laughing and crying at once—but her exhaustion and passion made it come out as ragged breaths.

While she struggled to contain herself, the others knew exactly what to say.

Pallegina took a step closer to him, between them. She shook her feathered head and held out her hands out toward Aloth as though framing him in her view. “And what do you really expect us to do with this too-late confession?” she said harshly, “Trust you on your word?”

Oh, yes! Nya wanted to crow as she gulped in air. Yes, we will!

The corners of Sagani’s eyes crinkled. “A team can’t survive without trust,” she said in that curt, motherly way of hers. “All the same, I think he means it, Nya.”

Yes! Nya wanted to crow as she thought how she great Sagani had always been to Aloth, never picking on him for being Aedyran and never asking or preferring Iselmyr. Nya could have kissed her that moment. Of course, the hunter mom saw the best in him. Never had she loved Sagani so much!

Her bliss was broken when Edér said casually, “I still feel kinda attached, even with the betrayal. He’s got this way of taking offense that I really like. Tough one.”

Nya felt a new wave of annoyance at Edér she hadn’t felt since the day he had told Hiravias, “Face of skin, let them in. Face of hair, best beware.” Damn it, Edér! Why did he always have to say well-meaning things that best irritated her?

She turned instead to Aloth, who made her heart burst with love for him. He didn’t even have to try. He didn’t even mean to. The sweet, comely, lonely elf could make her heart overflow with love for him just by being there.

He looked terrified yet eager for her verdict… but also perturbed by her erratic behavior. He shufled nervously on his feet, like he was half-ready to run in case she lunged at him like a mad lunatic in the streets. Certainly she seemed to be acting one as late, as the Watcher madness slowly caught up with her.

But she could only imagine how he felt, holding that secret like a festering illness for so long--that secret that no doubt weighed on his chest like a stone, clutched his soul like a vice, squeezing him steadily harder and harder till he could scarcely breath for fear of letting her find out. The longer you hide something, the harder it is to show it, right? Only to finally, in a moment of madness and emergency, find the courage to force out a confession like a puff of hair through a collapsed lung... only for her to roll around in breathless, silent laughter. Poor Aloth.

She tried her best to steady herself.

“Is that all?” she said as she finally gained enough control of her laughter. “Aloth, you had me worried there! You had me thinking…”

She sighed, and took a deep breath to steady herself. She let her warm sigh escape into the smoky night air, and turned to look at him. She smiled, and felt nothing but calm love and acceptance for this lonely elf that stole her heart.

“I forgive you, Aloth,” she said openly and genuinely from the bottom of her heart and soul. She realized her smile was wet with tears. And then a terrible thought occurred to her. “But I want you beside me, not behind me. I’m not asking you to trade one master for another.”

She expected him to smile or look relieved, but his face remained as grave as ever.

“That would be an honor,” his voice was solemn and quiet.

She was troubled by his closed expression despite her open acceptance. Did he ever... would he ever b and yet her heart soared with love for this solemn prince. He would not turn on her, and she would not have to kill him. He would fight beside her to the bitter end. All was as it should be.

She wanted to ask him further questions, but now was not the time or place. The city was burning, and her soul was searing. 

Like a burn victim turning to a cool balm, she fled into the cool night air--away from the blazing city and into the darkest forest.


End file.
